Chapter Twenty-Seven Vinny
That night, the dream came for me again. But this time it was different.
Sophia lay in my arms, head on my chest like she always did. Her hair smelled like vanilla and citrus. I held her tight, breathing her in, whispering how much I loved her. Then she lifted her head.
Only it wasn’t Sophia anymore.
It was Jamie. Same face. Same eyes. But the look in them was all hers — that dangerous, knowing smirk I was starting to crave.
“You keep trying to save me,” she whispered, brushing her fingers across my jaw. “But you’re the one who’s going to die this time.”
Gunshots ripped through the cabin. Blood bloomed across her chest, soaking my hands. Her eyes widened in shock, then went glassy. I tried to hold her, tried to stop the bleeding, but it poured through my fingers like water.
“No—no, not you too—”
I woke up gasping, heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted out.
Early morning light filtered through the windows. Automatically, my arm reached across the mattress, searching for her warmth.
The space was empty. The sheets were cold.
The panic from the nightmare bled straight into reality. I sat up fast, ignoring the flare of pain in my side, and moved through the cabin.
“Jamie?”
No answer.
The kitchen was too quiet. A plate of eggs and toast sat on the table, already cold. Next to it lay a single sheet of paper ripped from her notebook. I snatched it up, jaw locking as I read her handwriting:
Vinny— You already sacrificed everything for Sophia. This is my bloodline, my debt, and my war. It’s personal. I’m taking the guns. I called in a few favors. I’m handling it myself.
You find your parents. You deserve to be happy.
Stop fucking living in the past, Papi. —Jamie
Stop fucking living in the past.
The words landed like a slap. Not because they were cruel — because they were true. I’d been haunting Sophia’s memory like a ghost who refused to accept the funeral was over. And Jamie had seen it. Seen all of me. Instead of using it against me, she tried to set me free.
But she was wrong about one thing.
I wasn’t letting her go.
A low, broken sound tore out of me — half laugh, half growl. She thought she could run. She thought she could cut me loose and walk into the fire alone.
She forgot who the fuck she belonged to now.
I threw the note down and stormed back into the bedroom. I slammed my laptop open, fingers flying across the keys. I’d slipped micro-trackers into her belongings weeks ago. A precaution. One I was grateful for now.
A map loaded. A small red dot pulsed, moving fast north toward the interstate.
“I see you, sweetheart.”
I grabbed the burner and dialed Bael.
It rang once.
“Yo. Vinny, what’s up?”
“Bael,” I said, voice flat and cold. “The girl left. She took the guns. She’s about to walk into a war she can’t win alone.”
A heavy silence stretched.
“I need help. Transportation. Pull whatever strings you have left. I’m going after her, and I’m killing anyone who stands between me and her. If your mother gets in the way… I won’t hesitate. Not this time.”
Bael exhaled. “Give me the location. I’m sending my people. Don’t die before we get there, brother.”
I hung up, already moving.
Jamie told me to stop living in the past.
She was right.
Sophia was gone.
But Jamie was alive.
And I wasn’t losing her too.